


Yank these threads away and set me free

by mellow_fellow



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Brothers, Emotional Manipulation, Ghostbur, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Manipulation, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Prison, Scared TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, he is mentioned, shits wild fam, tommy is just going through it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellow_fellow/pseuds/mellow_fellow
Summary: SPOILERS FOR TOMMYS MARCH 1ST STREAMTommy gets beat to death by Dream in prison, but there’s a twist. What if Dream actually does have the revive book?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Yank these threads away and set me free

**Author's Note:**

> Hello this is pure angst so be warned
> 
> WARNINGS  
> -brief mentioning of nausea (no actual throwing up)  
> -everything else is in the tags

Tommy was still stuck in the stupid prison cell with Dream, and he was about to lose it.

“I don’t think that the revive book is real,” Tommy states, staring right into the eyes of Dreams fractured mask. “It’s not real, is it?”

“Oh my god,” Dream says, exasperated. He lifts a hand, presumably to rub his face, before his fingers meet cold ceramic, and he drops it back to his side. Annoyance flares through Tommy’s veins.

“Because all you do-“

“Tommy,”

“Shut the fuck up! Shut up, Dream. Because all you do is lie to me.” Tommy shoves Dream, anger flashing in his eyes. The grime on his body feels uncomfortable, like he was drowning in his own skin. Dream shoves him back, causing Tommy to stumble into the corner again. “In exile, all you did was lie. You would lie to me, and then unveil this big  _ thing _ that you had been planning all along.” Tommy throws his arms out, letting gravity drag them back to his sides. 

“You made me trust you, and I shouldn’t have, Dream.” Tommy takes a step towards Dream, his hands balled into fists. He pokes a finger into Dream’s chest, pushing his face as close as he was willing to go to Dream’s mask. “You are a clinical manipulator.” He punctuated each word with another jab to his chest. Dream remains silent, though Tommy can feel the waves of anger rolling off him. He tries to swallow his fear, but it kept clawing its way back up his throat. Heart beating fast, he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair.

“This fucking revive book at you keep going on about, that Jschlatt gave to you. Jschlatt was a fucking madman alright?!” He gestures wildly with his hands, struggling to fit all his thoughts into his words. “He didn’t have access to this, this ‘omnpitent revive book.’” Disdain drips from his words. “Fuck off, man.” Tommy turns and faces the falling lava wall instead, bringing his arms around himself, shoulders hunched.

“Hey hey hey, you’re calling me a liar! You’re calling me a liar when I’m not lying!” Dream shoots back. He places a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, and he flinches, shoving the hand off.

Tommy spins around and shouts. “WHY WOULD JSCHLATT- YOU BANNED HIM FOR TWO WEEKS! WHY WOULD HE HAVE THE POWER TO FUCKING- THAT DOESNT MAKE ANY SENSE!” Tommy huffs out a breath, trying to calm himself a bit. He glares at Dream, the lava giving his emotionless mask a flaming glow. 

Tommy felt sick.

“It doesn’t make sense that’s would have this revive book? Like, it just doesn’t add up, alright?” He drags his hands down his face, trying to scrub the discomfort from his skin. 

“You know what Tommy, you come and you be  _ disrespectful _ , you be annoying, you be a little bitch-“ Dream punches Tommy, landing a solid hit on his jaw. Tommy jerks back, shocked by the hit. “That just complains-“ another punch, “you talk to  _ me _ -“ a third punch. Tommy’s vision sways. “And you  _ accuse _ me of things, accuse me of being a liar-“ another punch, and Tommy stumbles, his knees almost giving out beneath him. He’s glad for the solid wall behind him, able to brace himself against it. “You accuse me of being a manipulator-“

“Stop punching me, please,” Tommy begs. He thinks he can feel blood dripping from his nose but he isn’t sure. “Give me some potatoes please.” Dream stares at him silently. Tommy thinks that he would prefer it if he was yelling. 

“No.” Tommy’s heart sinks.

“I’m not going to give you anything,” Dream punches him again, causing Tommy to trip and fall against the chest. He can feel his, well, his everything bruising.

“I’m not lying! Jschlatt gave me a revive book! He gave me a revive book after-“ He stops himself, looking away. “Before he died.” Tommy freezes, Dream’s slip-up pooling cold in his gut.

“Revive him them. Revive him right now,” he gestures to a spot on the ground, the crying obsidian glowing a dull purple. The cell is silent, and it pounded in Tommy’s ears. Then, Dream chuckles.

“That’s not how it works,” he walks away, leaving Tommy shaking against the chest. He shoves himself to his feet, taking a few stumbling steps toward Dream.

“Revive him right now! He’ll appear right there-“

“I’m not lying!” Dream says, sighing. He runs a hand through his dark blond hair, anger rising again. 

Tommy can tell.

“If you’re not lying, then revive him,” Tommy receives a punch to the gut for that. He wheezes, breath knocked out of his lungs, folding over.

“I’M NOT LYING”, Dream roars. Fear strikes through Tommy like lightning, making his freeze. The crying obsidian above him drips onto his arm, freezing against his burning skin. “Why would I be lying about that??” Another punch. “Oh, to save my own skin or something?” Two more punches. Tommy’s world is spinning again, the cell blurring together into a blob of purple and orange. And maybe that’s what made his brain to mouth connection so loose, or maybe he just got so fed up with Dream’s bullshit that he snapped.

“Yes! Exactly that! You’re a liar,” he sniffs, glaring at Dream again. He straightens, squaring his shoulders as much as he could manage. He takes a few steps towards Dream, grabbing his shirt. “Because I look under your armor, and your skin, and you know what I see? I see a sad, little man,” Dream slaps him, but Tommy stands firm. “who is insecure about the fact that this world had gotten so far ahead of him, and his only little glimpse of power in this world, is gone.” He stands glaring at Dream, eyes locked on those stupid little black dots. Chest heaving, he fumes. Dream doesn’t move either, seemingly staring into his soul, arms lax by his sides.

“So fuck off.”

“Tommy-“

“You stupid, little man.”

“Aww, does that piss you off? Did I make you mad?” Dream mocks. Anger flares in Tommy’s chest, hot and comforting. Because yes, he is mad, but he’ll never let Dream know that.

“My life is not in your hands, Dream,” Tommy drops his shirt and limps away, facing the lava again. He leans against the wall, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Dream continues to taunt him, and Tommy’s anger flares again.

He whips around, facing Dream again, trying to ignore how the action made his head pound and his vision blur. “You won’t do shit to me!”

“You can’t kill me! And I can kill you!” Dream shouts.

“Do you hear yourself???” Tommy exclaims. Dream grabs his shirt and pulls him close to his mask, so that his nose is almost against cold, cold ceramic, those stupid black eyes boring into his soul. Still, Tommy pushes further, aching for some type of revenge, of satisfaction.

He shouldn’t have.

“You’re fucked up your own ass, you self obsessed-“ he cuts himself off, trying to calm down before he did something  _ really  _ stupid. “Dream.”

“What does that mean? If you can’t kill me, does that make me some kind of god?” Dream says, shoving Tommy around. He pushes Dream away and limps to another part of the cell.

He just wanted to go home.

Tommy mocks Dream’s words in a high pitched voice before turning back to shove him again. “Shut the fuck up.” 

Dream is quicker, grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm behind his back. Tommy is slammed against the wall, crying obsidian cutting his cheek. 

“No Dream, I could kill you, right now if I wanted to,” Tommy says, words muffled by the wall. Dream releases him, and Tommy shakes out his arm.

“But you won’t!” Dream says. Getting close to Tommy again. Stupid fucking mask.

“You know why I won’t? Because I’m leaving this prison-“ another punch slams his head into the wall, causing his world to spin, quicker than it had before. It took him a moment to realize that he was on the floor, his knees bloody and sore. The obsidian burns the palms of his hands. He coughs, panicking a bit when he sees blood splatter the floor below him.

“Fucking- stop hitting me!” Tommy cries, eyes stinging from tears held back. Dream, of course, didn’t listen. He continues to punch him, kicking his ribs, causing Tommy to fall fully to the floor, unable to block the rain of blows anymore. He covers his head with his arms.

“STOP IT! STOP IT! PLEASE,” he begs, voice breaking, his eyes shut tight. The blows, thankfully, stop coming, and Tommy slowly peeks out at Dream. His mask was skewed now, revealing his mouth, and one shockingly green eye. Tommy sits up, ribs screaming. He assumed that he had broken one or two. He props himself up against the wall, bloody and bruised legs stretched out against the floor. 

“Look at me, alright?” Tommy says through a mouthful of blood. Both nostrils were bleeding now, and he had probably bitten his tongue. He just hoped that he hadn’t lost any teeth in the process, he quite liked his smile. “I’m not going to kill you. And the only reason I’m not is because I know that you’re in this prison. I’m gonna get my little scooter out, and I’ll be fine, Dream.” Tommy gestures weakly to the lava, hoping against hope that Sam would appear there, ready to take him away from Dream.

His pointing finger drifted, until it was pointed directly at Dream’s exposed eye. “You? You’re stuck in here forever. I don’t think this revive book is real.” He scoffs, dropping his hand to his side, too distracted to register the small flash of pain as the obsidian cut his knuckles. “Jschlatt? He’s fucking dead. I’ve seen his grave. His grave is  real his corpse is there!” 

Tommy knew he made a mistake when Dream’s eye flashed. Dream grabs his shirt collar and drags him to the middle of the cell, dumping him on the floor, easily avoiding Tommy’s weak attempts to fight back. Dream is now on top of him, single eye so filled with anger that Tommy felt nauseous. 

“Why don’t you go see him then.” Dread pools cold and hard in Tommy’s stomach. He knows he’s too weak to do anything but take the blows.

“No no no, stop it! Stop it!” He sobs as Dream’s fists rain down onto him. “Stop it, please!” He catches glimpses of Dream’s gaze, eyes feral and angry. He can feel his bones creaking, his skin bruising, his veins bleeding. He feels every single hit Dream lands on him, body pushed beyond saving. He feels his ribs crack more, screaming in pain. He never does realize that his ribs weren’t the only thing screaming. His own throat let out pitiful cries, broken sobs, and jumbled words. Dream lands one more solid punch on his nose, and Tommy hears a sickening crack, and he can’t tell if it’s his nose or his head, because both of them feel split in two. His head is getting fuzzy, vision going black. Eventually, the pain fades entirely, and he takes one more shuddering breath before he stops moving entirely.

...oooOOOooo...

Tommy wakes up with a pounding headache. He groans, lifting a hand to rub his eyes. He tries to open them, but all he sees is white, too bright for his just-woken eyes. 

He freezes.

The prison isn’t white.

He shoots into a sitting position, and immediately regrets the action, head spinning and stomach heaving. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, just breathing, palm braced against the cool, smooth floor. Eventually the nausea subsides, and Tommy is able to open his eyes again. He looks around himself, only seeing white in all directions. He slowly rises to his feet, patting himself down. He’s wearing what he wore to the prison, but it was good as new. There were no blood stains, no tears, and no holes.

A sudden noise causes him to whip around, squinting into the white. Then it happens again.

A laugh.

A very familiar laugh. 

Tears spring to his eyes, and Tommy starts walking in the direction of the laugh, hope fluttering in his chest. A group of three people people begins to come into focus. A short man with the Mexican flag printed onto a Dream mask, a man with goat horns wearing a suit, and a tall man in a trench coat and a maroon beanie that Tommy had bought for him when he was eight.

“Wilbur?” He calls. The man jumps, seemingly startled, whipping around to Tommy. Their eyes lock, brown and blue meeting once again.

“Toms?” Wilbur says, voice choked. Tommy lets out a sob, and sprints over to his brother. It really was him. His brother. His Wilbur.

“Wilby!” He shouts, crying too hard to properly form words. He watches his brother sprint to him as well, his own tears streaming down his cheeks. Tommy was ecstatic. He could see his brother again, not that stupid ghost that hurt more than it helped. He could hug Wilbur again. He sprinted harder, reaching out for Wilbur. His brother did the same, and Tommy noticed that it was getting harder to run. He chocked it up to being tired.

He shouldn’t have.

Just as their fingertips brush, Tommy is yanked back. He gasps for air as something around his neck drags him back. He glances down and sees lime green threads wrapped around his wrists. He looks back up, and he sees the shock on Wilbur’s face, then the heartbreak. His brother sprints faster than he ever had before, arms pumping and chest heaving.

“TOMMY!” He shouts, voice cracking.

“WILBY!” Tommy shouts, sobbing. “PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK.” But he only sees his brother get farther away from him, feet sliding against the smooth floor.

“TOMMY!” Wilbur shouts again, but his voice is distant. Tommy sobs as he’s dragged faster and faster, struggling against the green threads.

“WILBUR!” He screams, his voice raw. He sobs again, and closes his eyes against the world speeding by him. He can feel his tears being ripped off his cheeks by the wind, and he grabs at the threads around him neck. They were slowly choking him, tightening, tightening, tightening. He is pulled faster, faster, faster.

He’s slammed back into his body with a force so strong he shoots up with a gasp and his brother’s name on his lips. He lets out a sob and rolls onto his side. He’s back in the stupid fucking box, with the stupid fucking manipulator grinning down at him, holding a book in his hands. He snaps it closed and tucks it back into his pocket, grin maniacal. He grabs Tommy’s shirt, pulling him close to his face.

“Don’t ever call me a liar again,” he shoves Tommy back to the ground, and he curls into a ball, lying in a puddle of his own blood. He lets out one more sob, before passing out cold, exhaustion clawing at his bones and brain.

_ Damn that stupid fucking revive book, and most of all, damn you, Dream. _

**Author's Note:**

> Beep beep get on the angst train everyone :)
> 
> Edit (March 5, 2021): okay so I wrote this before I watched Tommy’s latest stream and all I have to say is, what the fuck. How did I guess this. But the interaction with Wilbur is so different lakdjfkshdh


End file.
